


From Everyone That I Have Been

by Mottled_System



Series: A Journey Of The Self [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Comfort/Angst, Fluff and Angst, Half-Vampires, Heavy Angst, Immortality, Multi, Polyamory, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System
Summary: One woman. Seven names. One hundred and fifty nine years. One gorey world of vampires and halflings, of blood and magic.Lena- that's what she's going by for now, just until she can choose a new name- has finally turned herself in for her crimes, crimes so taboo that the often macabre world she finds herself in is a little on edge about it. So, they ship her off to the other side of the country.On her way, she reflects on her long and grueling past- the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. She owes it to her loved ones, the ones she's hurt, the ones she's left, and all seven versions of herself- each one leading naturally into the next, but the last so removed from the first.This is the story of Lena, of Bex, of Frankie, of Harlow, of Alice, of Madge, of Margaret. This is the story of me.
Series: A Journey Of The Self [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019389





	1. Prologue

From Everyone That I Have Been

A Journey Of The Self

Prologue

July 2023

Los Angeles Bound

**‘To Honour The Past** ’

  
  


I sit cross-legged in the back of Benjamin’s Prius, looking over at him. I’m almost surprised that he’s joined me in the back seat, allowing his wife (whose name I have very inconveniently forgotten) to sit in the front with the driver. He meets my eye and gives a solemn, cordial nod.

“Once again,” he says, his voice ever tender. He always manages to make whomever he’s talking to feel important and listened to- I suppose that must have been an essential tool in becoming the most powerful bloodsucker in America.

Besides all the billionaires, I mean.

“I am very sorry to uproot you so. I know that you had been settled in Detroit for… A long time.”

“A hundred years,” I say, thinking back to those days so long ago- the long, loose, boxy dresses that I loved so dearly, the illegal booze that only made it all the more enjoyable to consume. “Down to the month.”

“Oh, I simply adored the twenties,” says the woman from the front seat, sounding about as drunk as she always did. “Do you remember Mr. Lindbergh, dear?”

“Of course I do, Marie,” says Benjamin. “Just with a lot less fondness than you do.”

“Hmm,” she says, taking a drink from her fancy canteen, one that looked to be cast out of pure iron.

Benjamin looks back over at me. “I’m sure your days were- quite different from ours,”

“Probably,” I say with a crooked grin. Those days had been hard- the money had been good, at first, but the blood was always scarce, and eventually, the food had been even scarcer. But I’ll be damned if they don’t make for good memories now.

I do feel a pang of- something, having been prompted to look back into the past. Something other than the rage and dread I’ve grown accustomed to, having been full of them for nearly a decade. The pang gives way to that distant grief and the feeling of being lost that’s only too happy to creep up on me when it is least expected.

I’m leaving my safe haven of metro-Detroit, a place I’ve come to know intimately, full of people I’ve known for, in some cases, a century. Feeling- oh, what was it- flat? My therapist always said I have a  _ flat affect _ . Anyway- feeling flat, I look down at the floor. “I can’t say I don’t understand your decision.”

Benjamin inhales sharply. “I’d certainly be concerned if you could,” he says in his grandfatherly way, as if chastising me for eating all the cookies rather than for… Slaughtering the entirety of the Detroit Militia and releasing a snuff film about it that nearly outed us to the humans.

… Ironically, something that would have honored the Militia’s goals.

“He deserved it,” I say in a deep and mirthless voice.

“There were better ways of having gone about it, and you know that. You ought to be ashamed.”

But I’m not. I know that I should be, but quite simply, I’m not.

The car is silent for a long time as we stare out our respective windows, the radio playing gently through the car. Occasionally, Benjamin shares words with Marie. We’re perhaps an hour away from having to stop for the day when Benjamin speaks up again.

“I suppose you’ll be changing your name once more,” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “Which is a shame. I quite like Lena, and it’s easily the shortest lived name I’ve had.”

“You could, of course, keep it,” Benjamin says. “It doesn’t make very much sense to be changing it all the time.”

“I like it,” I say. “Keeps things fresh, ever changing. It marks a new beginning in life. There has to be phases to it, you see, or I’d have lost my mind eons ago.”

“How old  _ are _ you, precisely?”

I think about that for a moment. “It’s different with halflings,” I say quietly. “If we don’t get our fill of vampire blood, eventually we start aging again.”

“I’m well aware,” Benjamin says.

I look over at him. “I was born in 1860,” I say. “I was fourteen when I became a halfling. I think it’s safe to say I’m not fourteen anymore… But it’s impossible to know, for sure, where I am.”

He studies me for a long moment quizzically, and I take the time to study him, as well. I find myself envious of him. He was somewhere in his fifties when he was turned; being so old, he got to live an almost complete human life (for the time) before blossoming into a vampire. He got the absolute best of both worlds.

And I, a halfling changed as a child, had gotten the worst of them. I tear my eyes away and admonish myself for thinking like that. There was no point in wasting energy on what could have been, what should have been. All there is is what has been, what remains, and what could be. That takes plenty of energy on its own.

“You’re the oldest halfling I’ve ever heard of,” says Benjamin. “They’re almost always undead- or dead- within a handful of years.”

I’m afraid of dying. I’m terrified of vampirism.  _ Especially _ without Bitsie. “Why fix what isn’t broken? I’m perfectly happy and capable as I am.”

“A fair point, I suppose. But… I’m sure you’ll have to grow up one day,”

I frown and stare out the window. “It’s getting closer to dawn. Unless you’d like to leave me an admittedly ashy new Prius, we should be getting to a hotel soon.”

Benjamin books us three rooms in what I can only presume to be Chicago’s fanciest hotel for a whopping grand per room, and I am left alone to stare out over Lake Michigan with longing and sadness.

“I’m never going to see snow again,” I say. Bitsie’s been gone for eight excruciating years, and yet I have not managed to break my habit of speaking aloud as if she was still here. “You’d have loved this room, wouldn’t you? Have loved to see Chicago and everything else on the way to Los Angeles.”

I was raised christian, of course. Despite everything, it’s hard to pretend I don’t still wholeheartedly believe in the religion, in God, in angels. And if they are real, there is no chance in Heaven or Hell that Bitsie is not an angel. So maybe she is listening. Maybe she’s standing right behind me, her delicate little hand on my shoulder.

I inhale sharply and all but collapse onto the plush chair beside me, feeling the tears prickle my eyes. Goddamnit, I should be able to miss her without grieving, to love her without crying. She deserves better than that. Better than this.

Better than me. She always has.

I make my way to the bathroom and take the most posh bath anyone could ever have and arise feeling clean and aromatic. I catch sight of myself and stare at my naked body in the reflection.

There’s no question I’ve aged at least a half dozen years since my dive into the vampiric world. I’m probably a foot taller than I was then, and though the general build of my body is still lean and youthful despite now being hardened by labor and training, I was clearly at least a couple years into my twenties. I stare at my face, once considered ugly and strange, now rather attractive by modern tastes, so lacking in its childish veneer that I had been trapped in for so long. I’d looked like this since at least the end of the Depression, but sometimes- probably because I’ve never been fond of my own reflection- it still shocks me to realize how much and how little I have changed over the nearly two centuries I’ve been alive.

I make my way to the bedroom and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t often stop to reflect on my life, but right now it feels like a final send-off to Detroit, to my friends and my loved ones and the life I crafted for myself.

Tomorrow morning, we’ll be in Omaha. The morning after that, we’ll be in Denver. The morning after that, Cedar City, Utah. Then, finally, we’ll make it to Los Angeles.

A new start. I should honor the past until then; after all, I’ve got nothing better to do.


	2. Sincerely, And With Love, Margaret Jane Fisher

May 1874

London, England

**‘A Peaceful Theft’**

  
  


London was a beautiful if strange city, I mused as I sat on the middle step leading up to my brother-in-law’s fancy townhouse in the throes of the city. The sun had long set and the air was chilly, the streets much calmer than they had been during the day, but not nearly as empty as it was back home. Mama was, by this time of night, certainly asleep, and I did not want to bother Emma and her husband. So, I had stepped out for a breath of fresh air- (though, it seemed, freshness was relative in London)- and had been here for the better part of an hour, amusing myself with my thoughts and the strangers that peppered the streets.

Eventually, though, I fell victim to my own ever persistent boredom, my legs itching to get up and walk around. I’d gone for many a late night stroll all over England and Scotland- even through Edinburgh while visiting Uncle Thomas, who seemed to think the city was always alive with crime and thugs. Certainly, I could walk up and down one single street in London. I got to my feet and exited the wrought iron gate that enclosed my brother-in-law’s yard, walking casually. There were enough people- and not too many people; I felt safe. Still, I was determined to stay close. Besides, the exercise was good for me; if I wanted to marry a nice man like Emma had, I ought to stay in shape, as I did not have her exceedingly pretty face to get me by.

Soon, however- entirely without realizing it- spitting distance had turned into shouting distance, and shouting distance into, perhaps, sprinting distance.

Suddenly, then, I heard commotion down an alleyway as I walked past it. Knowing better than to stick my nose where it did not belong, I scurried by as quietly as I could, hoping it was just some rats rather than an affront or an atrocity. Mere moments later, however, a man was suddenly beside me, his hair slightly ruffled but a kind look on his face.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said with a strange accent I had never heard before. I blinked up at him and froze in place, glancing over to find comfort in the fact that there were several people close by, one of whom was a neighbor of Emma’s who had been quite nice to me and was eyeing the strange man wearily. “You dropped this,” said the man, holding up my change purse.

“Oh,” I said, relaxing. “Thank you kindly, sir,” I said and took it from him. I wondered how he had noticed that from the alleyway- but perhaps he had simply been behind me, not the source of the commotion.

“You’re quite welcome, ma’am,” he said. “May I ask what you’re doing wandering the streets so dreadfully late at night?” We both began to walk together, and I looked over at the neighbor, who gave me a discreet nod as if to say,  _ I’ll make sure you’re alright _ .

“Just taking a stroll, sir,” I said. I looked up the road, realizing now that I’d wandered a bit farther than I’d intended, though I could still run to it without stopping if the situation demanded it of me. “I found myself incapable of lying still in bed, so I went out for air.”

“Air is usually refreshing- though, in London, I’m afraid it’s quite the opposite,” he muttered. I laughed gently.

“It is not as unbearable as I was led to believe, but- yes. If you do not mind my asking, sir- where are you from?”

He gave me a playful look. “Take a guess, ma’am,”

“Italy is my guess,” I said gently.

“Very good. Well-travelled, are you?”

“Not nearly as much as I dream to be,” I said longingly. “I’ve never been to Italy- but I long to see Rome.”

“It is quite beautiful,” he said softly, looking over at me. “Perhaps you could ask your husband to take you there one day.”

“Oh, I am not married, sir,” I said, entirely flustered. “I am- a little too young for that, as of yet. But- one day, maybe.” I suddenly felt so silly. He had already said  _ one day _ .

“My apologies, miss,” he said reassuringly. “You don’t look very childish at all.”

“Well- I’m not- a  _ child _ , per se,” I said, growing ever more flustered. “I am fourteen, is all. Young- but I am not a little girl.”

“Fourteen is old enough to be married,” he said, and I relaxed.

“Yes, it is! Unconventional, maybe- but entirely old enough.” We walked a few more steps in silence, and while he looked entirely composed, I felt strange and out of place. “How old are you, sir?”

“I suppose that depends on how you count,” he said with a strange lilt to his voice, lips quirked a bit. I was about to wonder what he meant as I pointed towards my sister’s house, just across the street. A carriage was on its way, though, and it blocked our way. He nodded ahead.

“Let’s keep walking for a bit, miss, if you don’t mind.”

I glanced around, seeing fewer people, but still feeling relatively safe. “I suppose, sir.”

“I am- twenty seven,” he said.

“And your wife?”

“I am unmarried, miss,”

I looked over at him in surprise. His clothing was rather nice, indicating he was decently wealthy, and his face was handsome and masculine, his dark hair was curly and his sideburns were long. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn he was nobility. “My apologies, sir.”

“No need, miss,” he said.

“What is your name, sir, if I may ask?”

He gave me a debonair smile, his dark eyes shimmering beneath his long lashes, and my heart skipped. “My name is Leonardo Durante. And yours?”

“I am Margaret Fisher,” I said. It sounded so plain and so simple after his.  _ Just like I seem _ , I thought to myself, looking down at my modest dress, perhaps a bit too old and a bit too worn. “And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Durante.” His name sounded so strange with my northern accent.

“Please,” he said, offering another dazzling smile. “Call me Leonardo.”

I flushed red and nodded. “As you wish, Leonardo.” I turned to look over my shoulder, and seeing we had wandered awfully far from my sister’s house, and I spun around.

Leonardo placed a hand on my arm, though, and I looked at him, surprised. His eyes held an apologetic gleam in them. “I can’t let you return home, miss. Not after you saw me feeding.”

I blinked once, twice, thrice, not understanding. “I’m sorry?”

He studied my face for a long moment as if searching for something. “In the alleyway.”

I tensed and blinked. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,”

“You must come with me,” he said, looking tense and grim and reluctant. “I have no choice. And I’m afraid that neither do you.”

I looked around the street, seeing no one at all, even far away, in either direction. But I didn’t feel frightened, even as I looked back at Leonardo, studying his strong, broad, masculine frame. He was not a person I could realistically resist. “Please-”

He took my arm and led me forward, and my body glided along with him as my brain faltered and failed to react. I felt nothing at all as he led me into another house, so far away that my feet ached.

An older man walked out of a parlour as Leonardo started up the stairs, pushing me gently in front of him. He muttered something to Leonardo in what I could only assume was Italian; he seemed perturbed by whatever Leonardo’s response was, eyeing me wearily.

“You should know better than to abduct english women,” said the man through a thick accent.

Leonardo let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “Mind your own, Guiseppe.”

And with that, Leonardo led me up the stairs and into a bedroom.

It was then that I felt my heart sink, backing away from him and knocking into a wardrobe as he hurriedly locked the door behind us. The room was grand, the carpet and wallpaper a stunning red with gold details. The furniture was beautiful and seemingly very expensive. Leonardo turned around to face me, studying me from a distance. After a long moment, he spoke. “I will not hurt you, Margaret,” his voice was meant to be reassuring, but as he took a step towards me, I tensed even further and leaned into the wardrobe, my breath growing frantic.

“Do not come near me,” I breathed, and he stopped, looking concerned. “You- you will not touch me.” I tried to sound as certain and assertive as I could be, but I sounded weak and afraid even to my own ears.

“No,” he said. Finally, as if the thought had not occurred to him, his handsome face was overcome with horror. “I-I- that is not- no. Margaret, you misunderstand.”

“I certainly hope so,” I said, shivering against the warm air.

“I was not- um-  _ mounting _ \- that man in the alley.”

I raised both brows, staring at him, waiting. He took another step closer, then another, and another. “What, then?” I breathed, growing more and more mad with every silent moment.

“I was… Drinking from him,” he said in a way that suggested I was meant to understand something. I stared at him still. “I was drinking his blood.”

A bit of horror managed to prickle through me, and I gawked at him. “You- what?”

He looked confused, looking down. After a moment, he sat down on the bed, staring at his own leg and thinking. “Do you like to read, Margaret?”

I was silent for a long moment. “I do.”

“Have you ever read ‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan le Fanu?”

I looked at him for another moment before blinking, frowning. “About the- the  _ vampire _ ?”

“Yes,” he said as if it were a casual thing to imply.

“You mean to tell me you believe yourself to be a- a vampire.”

Leonardo sighed, looking down. I watched his jaw work, the gears turn in his eyes. Then, after a moment, he chuckled gently. “Do you believe those people on the street disappeared for no reason? That that man who was watching us, so worried for you, so certain I was a threat, just walked away from you for no reason? That for the hour we were walking, it was coincidence that there was no soul in sight? No, Margaret. We’re in the heart of London. There were people all around us- and yet, you saw none of them. They all seemed to forget about you.”

“You’re telling me you- what exactly are you saying?” I demanded, feeling confused, feeling simple, feeling small.

Leonardo stood and walked towards me and I shrunk even further into the wardrobe, hearing it rock back onto its hind legs and tap against the wall. He only took my arm, leading me towards the window, and opened the curtains, revealing a street as busy as it had been before I’d seen Leonardo. “Those people did not come from nowhere, Margaret. They were there the entire time.”

“No,” I said. “No.”

Leonardo sighed- and suddenly, the street was empty, every person having simply ceased to be. I let out a startled cry and without thought sunk back into Leonardo. After a few more moments full of disbelief, they simply appeared again, most several feet away from where they had previously been. I whispered a quiet prayer as I began to shiver against Leonardo, staring down at the street below.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that,” Leonardo said, sounding tired. “It will do little but make my skin crawl- but that is not a pleasant feeling, generally.”

I finished my prayer before turning around, looking up at Leonardo as he looked down at me. We were entirely too close, and it made me uncomfortable, but there was nowhere I could go and I dared not touch him to push him away; I could not speak to ask him to retreat. His ungloved hand found my cheek and I shuddered.

“I am sorry, Margaret. Had I known you did not- suspect anything strange… I should have let you be.”

“Just let me go, Leonardo. I want no part of this. Please-”

“I cannot do that,” he said, truly sounding sorrowful. “It is law. Our most sacred law- secrecy. I cannot let you return to the world. If you told anyone, even by accident, it would cost us both, and whoever would be unlucky enough to hear it, our lives.”

I shook my head as tears finally fell down my cheek. He winced at the sight, gently wiping them away. “I swear by the lord I won’t tell anyone. Please, just let me go.”

“I cannot,” he breathed. After a moment, he kissed my forehead. “But I promise to you, Margaret, that I will keep you safe and happy. I have a manor near Rome. I have money- perhaps, too much- and I will buy you anything, everything that you want. If you get lonely, I will attain new help; you can close yourself within an entire wing of the house if you wish to be alone.”

“I  _ wish _ to go home,” I whimpered, feeling myself shake, feeling my body threaten to weep and collapse into a pile of sorrow.

“I am sorry, Margaret. I truly am. But that is not mine to allow. If you want, we can go to the higher ups in the Coalition, but they will not let you return. In fact, they may insist on- on disposing of you, or turning you into a vampire.” I heard myself whimper before I realized what was happening, and in a moment I was leaning into him, sobbing into his shoulder, feeling him wrap his arms almost tentatively around me. “I wish I could help you more.”

He held me for a while, playing with my hair for a long moment, as tenderly as a brother would- no, moreso. After a long while, after I’d gotten myself under control, he took a step back, glancing down at my dress. “Are you tired, Margaret? The sun will be rising soon.”

“Yes,” I said softly. “I am.”

“I will let you change, then- there is, of course, clothing in the wardrobe. I’m afraid I must insist on sitting in here as you do, but I will not bother you.” He walked towards the farthest corner of the room, facing the wall. Silently, and with many tired glances at Leonardo to ensure myself he was not looking, I removed my clothing and slipped into a nightgown from the wardrobe. It was far too large on me, presumably belonging to Leonardo himself.

“Alright,” I said, and climbed onto the bed, suddenly realizing how exhausted I was. He pulled another nightgown out of the wardrobe and I lay on my side, facing away from him, feeling scandalized as I listened to the quiet sounds of fabric on skin as he changed.

“Alright,” he echoed, and I turned to see him sink into the crimson armchair beside the bed, looking tired himself. I peered at the excessively large bed, wondering if I was going to say what I did next: “You can lay on the bed, sir, if you do not touch me.”

Leonardo, seemingly startled, peered at my face for a long moment. “Are you certain?”

“I would not have spoken if I weren’t.”

Leonardo lay in bed, looking at me, and I at him. “Tell me about your family,” he asked quietly.

I blinked. “Well… My father was a soldier- a Royal Marine. He died when I was very young. My mother remarried his brother, but it was only for legal reasons, she said. He lives in Scotland. I have one sister, Emma, who recently married a man named William Fitzwilliam- a funny name, to me. I’m visiting… I  _ was _ visiting them.”

Guilt passes over Leonardo’s eyes. “You can write to them. I have an associate here- he can deliver them safely to and fro. I’m afraid I must insist on reading them first, but… You can write to them.”

I suddenly imagined myself within a large Italian manor, surrounded by servants I would go out of my way to befriend, to treat nicely, as this strange and pretty man showered me with trinkets and toys. Mama would want that for me, wouldn’t she? Emma certainly would.

Did I?

“Tell me about your family,” I breathed as my eyes began to feel increasingly heavy.

“I have no family,” he said softly. “I never have.”

“My apologies.”

“No need. I have… Friends. Friends that are like family, in some ways.”

“That is good.”

“Indeed.”

“How old are you?”

He told me about 14th century Rome, apparently a rather bleak time, and I inched closer and closer to sleep with each world, his deep, quiet voice like a lullaby even as he whispered the atrocities he had endured.

  
  
November 1881

Durante Manor

**‘Trinkets And Baubles’**

  
  


“Leo! Leo?” I called as I glided through the longest hallway of Durante Manor, the heart of the house, perhaps, listening for his response.

“In the study, dear.” I heard faintly from far away, and with a grin of excitement I hurried up the stairs, enthralled as usual with the clicking of my heels against the rich, beautiful wood. I rushed into Leo’s study to see him sitting at his desk, surrounded by glorious bookshelves stuffed with all manner of books and novels and transcripts, most older than myself and many older than he. The carpet was a vibrant green that stood out against the mahogany woods of the room. “What do you need?”

“Look!” I insisted, and he glanced up from his typewriter. He studied my dress with a small smile and I spun, letting out an excited, girlish coo. “Isn’t it glorious! Oh, I simply can’t believe how long these sorts of dresses take to make, and to be honest I still have much more sewing to do, but it’s nearly done and entirely wearable and- ow!” I froze to gingerly pull out a pin that had jabbed my arm, scowling at it. Leo laughed gently, amused, and it was a glorious, musical sound.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “It looks stunning, as do you in it.”

I flushed and smiled at him, basking in the attention and the shimmer in his dark eyes. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course, my dear.” He got to his feet then, absentmindedly straightening his waistcoat. “Speaking of stunning- I have a present for you.”

“You do?” I cooed. “I like presents.”

Leo gave me a small smirk. “I’m well aware.” He walked over to the chaise lounge beside me, moving his discarded suit jacket to the side to pick up a simple black box. I peered at it curiously; when I moved my hand forward to touch it, he pulled it gently away. “Where have your manners gone, my dearest?”

“Thank you, sir,” I purred, putting my hands behind me and leaning forward coquettishly. “How grateful I am for your generosity,  _ sir _ .”

His eyes narrowed playfully and he smiled, outstretching the box to me once more. I carefully removed the lid and gasped at what I saw beneath; a very old, very beautiful thing indeed, something that looked like a jewelry box. I placed a hand gently on the ruby that sat in the very middle of the lid. “Oh, Leo,” I said. “It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,”

He gently removed the jewelry box from its gift box, revealing stunning paintings lining the sides. “Open it,” he insisted gently, and I did, seeing it full of old and beautiful jewelry. I put a hand to my mouth as I ran one finger over an old, nearly velvety chain. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I gushed, feeling near tears. “I absolutely do.” I took the box from him, setting it cautiously down on the chaise lounge, and hugged him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around my waist and hold me. His energy, the very essence of Leonardo, enveloped me as I clung to him, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

“I’m glad.”

I imagined myself pulling back to kiss him. I imagined him kissing me back, placing a hand on my waist, and leading me to a shared bed. I imagined falling asleep in his familiar embrace. I felt that strange and incorrigible yearning to be loved and held by him, always. But as we broke our embrace and I glanced down at my slim, childish body, suddenly struck again with the unyielding truth of what I had been frozen as, I felt that ever persistent sadness overwhelm me.

Leo kissed my forehead gently before heading back to his desk, saying words that my mind did not bother to perceive. He was not giving me things like a husband did a wife, but more so like a brother did a sister. I looked down at the beautiful, intricate jewelry box and I blamed it for that, as if it were somehow a cause and not simply a symptom.

“How quickly do halflings age?” I asked suddenly. I glanced at my reflection in a beautiful antique mirror that stood in the corner of the room. Five years had passed, and I most certainly did not look like a woman of nineteen.

“Slowly,” he said. “But they age. I’m not sure I’ve heard of many halflings who have remained as such for very long; they generally prefer to be turned into vampires.”

“But vampires never age.”

Leonardo looked at me solemnly, suddenly following my reasoning. “No, Margaret. We do not.”

“I would be an awkward and gangly child forever.”

“You are not awkward, nor gangly, nor a child, Margaret,” Leonardo said, standing once more to walk towards me. I looked into the mirror, not seeing his reflection. I wondered why he kept a mirror with silver in it when he couldn’t see himself reflected by it. He touched my shoulder, poking himself on another pin. “Look at how beautiful you are, how sweet, how soft. You are not a child but a woman in the midst of her youth, and that is a beautiful thing to be forever.”

I looked at myself in my dress, an elegant and mature design. I looked at my hair, ruffled and reminiscent of a hard-working, middle class woman. I looked at my expression, solemn and sad and desolate, a look I had seen on my mother too often, though ever on my sweet, young sister. It all looked so strange beside my unseemly large eyes, my strange, upturned nose, and my uneven round lips. My mother and sister had pointed chins, chiseled cheekbones; I had a round, smooth, childish face. How Leonardo, or anyone, could look at me and see a woman was far beyond me.

I felt him kiss my head, saw my hair move seemingly of its own accord in my reflection. A child playing dress up, standing there. An impurity, an abomination, something so unclean as to be rejected by the pure silver. That was what we were.

July 1902

Durante Manor

**‘Another Peaceful Theft’**

  
  


Alice and I giggled wholeheartedly from where we sat, perched upon our stools at the bar. With a shaky hand she poured us both more wine as her laughs slowly died down. My head was ever swaying and my mind seemed unwilling to fully process the things my eyes were seeing; even as I tried to focus on her, I could not, and good- we were drinking because I had been crying, crying at the sight of her. Leo had hired her when she was twelve, ten years ago, and she had grown from a little sister to an elder one, a child to an adult. It was something that stung fiercer than any wasp ever could.

But not, apparently, when I was drunk.

“I swear to you,” she giggled. “It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t!” I declared, entirely having forgotten what we were arguing about, as we had paused several times to go on several different tangents. Still, I was headstrong in my denial. “You’re a liar, Alice, or else is- they- whoever you- who told you is.” Alice giggled harder, doubling over towards the table.

“What is this? What on earth are you two doing?”

We turned to see Leo, freshly risen, all but glaring at us. I beamed at him, picking up my glass as if in a toast, spilling just a little over the side. “We are making merry!” Leo stalked forward and snatched the glass out of my hand, spilling more. “ _ Hey _ -!”

“Silence,” he hissed, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. He slammed the glass onto the table, shattering it with his inhuman strength, his lack of control. I jumped, blinking thrice. He grabbed the bottle from in between me and Alice, the mood far and beyond soured. Her face was awash with guilt, her eyes facing the ground. “Do you know how old this wine is? How long I’ve been saving it?”

“It’s just wine, Leo,” I slurred out. He turned his dark eyes towards me, alight with anger.

“ _ Just wine _ , Margaret? Do you have any idea how expensive-?”

“Shut  _ up _ !” I screamed, all but hopping to my feet, all but falling over afterwards. Leo’s anger had mingled with shock. “You’re not the boss of me, Leonardo! You don’t get to just- just steal me away and dress me up and play with me like a doll! I’m not a little baby for you to play pretend with! I am forty two years old, goddamnit, and I’ll drink if I want to fucking drink!”

Leonardo was entirely struck, entirely taken aback, his anger having given away to something else entirely. “Margaret…”

But I was taken with my rage, my foolish little temper tantrum. “I said  _ shut up _ !” I shrieked, stomping my foot, sounding not like a forty-two year old, nor even a fourteen year old, just a petulant little child enabled by the stolen wine.

He touched my arm and I screamed again, turning to run as quickly as I could towards my room. I could hear him follow me, hear in his voice how flustered he was, how embarrassed for me he was, and it only made me angrier. I slammed the door behind me so hard the door shook, quickly turning the key before he could open the door. “Margaret,” he cooed as he tried to twist the doorknob. “Please, I-”

“You did this to me!” I roared, sounding less shrill and whiny, sounding more devastated and heartbroken and furious.  _ Good _ . “You made me this way- made me trapped in hell of a body forever!” I slammed my fist against the solid, sturdy door so hard that it hurt all the way up my arm. “I’m a freak! A stupid little girl who- who throughs tantrums and screams!”

“Margaret,” he argued. “ _ Please _ .”

_ Please calm down. You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing me. _ I stumbled backwards and collapsed at the foot of my bed, weeping as I listened to Leonardo seemingly trying to pick the lock.

I looked at myself in my silvery mirror, at the reflection that grew hazier and hazier each time I drank from Leonardo. I knew from my measurements, my height, that I had aged, if just a tiny bit, but I looked no different, no older. I felt no different, no older. I was small, and young, and immature, and growing more and more tainted, more and more impure, and it was all thanks to him, the man who had stolen me and kept me locked away. A man I loved and hated, reviled and desired.

“Margaret, I’m sorry for getting angry at you. I’m sorry for- everything. Every single thing. I know… I know what I’ve done, believe you me.” I could hear his voice change as he began to cry. I looked at the door as if I could see him through it. “Please, just… Come out. Or, let me in. Please.”

I stared at the door for a long time, immobile, tears falling silently down my stupid, childish face. He continued to beg and plead, and I listened to him, feeling my heart slowly break more and more until I clambered to my feet and walked numbly to the door, unthinking and unfeeling as I twisted the key once more. He had sat down beside the door but hurried to his feet, looking down at me, full of guilt and concern. Tenderly, he wiped my tears away as he so often did.

“Come to my room,” he cooed, gently taking my hand. He coaxed me along, leading me towards his chambers. Once I was sufficiently far enough from my room, he stood beside me rather than in front of me, placing a hand on my back as if to keep me moving forward. He held my right hand in his, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

The room was dimly lit, the furniture dark and beautiful and ancient, just like everything else in this house, just like Leonardo himself. The room was split into two, mirror images of each other; on one side, his casket, where he slept during the day, and on the other, the large and glorious four poster bed where lounged. Each side had two armchairs, a floor lamp, two nightstands, two table lamps, several bookshelves, and a silver mirror at the foot of the casket, the foot of the bed.

Leonardo led me to the bed, laying me down like he did when we drank from one another; I often fainted afterwards. It almost made it a treat to sleep in this beautiful room, upon this glorious bed. I stared at the ruched veil that lay over the tops of the posts, wistfully billowing down towards us. Leo turned me towards him, though, gently moving me with his warm hands. I practically collapsed into him, basking in his warmth, his energy, his familiarity. I felt myself nuzzle closer to him, cling tighter to him, lean into him. I also felt him grow tense, lean his hips away from me.

Revolted by myself, I tore away to sit up and hug my stupid, waif-like body. I still wore my corset; the shape of my body looked perfectly womanly, perfectly adult, but I was hyper aware of the padding, the stuffing, the vain and pretentious lies pressed against my body. My face may no longer have been fourteen, but it was, at the oldest, fifteen. “I am a child, inside and out,” I said softly as a tear trailed down my cheek. “I will be for hundreds of years, rotting here, resigned to be old enough to crave yet too young to eat.”

Leonardo sat up and caressed my arm, massaging my skin with the rich lace upon it. “You are beautiful, inside and out. And you may do as you please.”

I looked over at him, studying his face. I wanted to laugh sardonically at him, but my face was unwilling to move. “Would you let me leave?”

“Yes,” he said, though it sounded as if his heart broke as he did.

I scoffed softly, looking away again. “My mother is dead. My sister is dead. Her children do not know me. I am too young to meet anyone who is not too young for me.”

“We have each other,” he argued, again sounding near tears. I leaned into him.

“You have me,” I said, my wet throat growing constricted as yet more tears fell. “But I do not have you.”

“You don’t?” He asked, seemingly in disagreement.

“I leaned into you, and you tensed and leaned away. You have me, but you do not want me. And you shouldn’t- not when I look like this, act like this.”

“You misunderstand,” he said softly after a pause. His voice was deep and dark and held implications, though their meaning I did not follow. I looked up at him, his guilty eyes. He was staring at the mirror, at me, and his dark, guarded eyes- ever impassive- seemed to shatter like obsidian into a million pieces, giving way to longing and lust and sorrow and pain and ever more guilt. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, leaning into me- clinging to me- in my bed.”

I feel my stomach drop into my heart as my lips part slightly. The weight of his words wash over me, taking several bursts to be fully understood. I do not feel joyous, nor hungry, nor anything at all. I feel far away, small, simple, removed. “Leo…”

He gives a dark and sorrowful laugh, quiet and broken. “I am a monster for that, I know. I stole you away, and- kept you here, giving you baubles and presents in the hopes that you would love me rather than hate me, as if any of it mattered in the face of what I took from you. I knew I could never ask that of you…” He frowned down at the luxurious duvet beneath us, hand embroidered with golden thread. His face twists and several tears fall. “But if I had known that you are… Hungry… I would have fed you long ago.”

I had wanted nothing but this for years, decades- wanted him, wanted to truly believe he saw me as not only a woman, but a beautiful woman. And yet, I stared at him, feeling some far-off, imposing feeling.

“I love you, my sweet, dearest Margaret,” he said, his voice wavering, breaking. “More than anything in this world, alive or dead, present or past or future. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I breathed, but it almost sounded like an argument. I nearly leaned away from him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said softly, still staring at the duvet. For one long, treacherous moment, we sat there in silence and did not move, until he turned to me and kissed me deeply, his palm against my cheek, wiping away the fresh, hot tears as they fall, and we lay sideways on the bed as we kissed, both of us crying softly.

And there, he took me, both of us catching glimpses of only me in the mirror as he did.

  
  
February 1914

Durante Manor

**‘Together; Removed’**

I hurried down the stairs, listening to the far-off sounds of Leo leaving his automobile, walking up to the front door. He’d been gone for nearly a month, away on business for the Sect. I cursed this stupid, beautiful house for being so impractically large.

By the time I hurried breathlessly into the foyer, Leo was already handing his coat to the butler. He smiled at me warmly, happily. “Hello, my love,” he said.

“Hello,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. He kissed my temple and held me tightly for a brief moment. “I’m still cross with you.”

Leo sighed as stepped away to look at me, the butler scurrying away and leaving us alone. “I know-”

“A week, you said. I know nothing about running this place, dealing with the staff! Giuseppe came over, and I had to awkwardly entertain him for over an hour before he left!” I sighed, flustered. “I’m just lucky the staff are so capable and considerate.”

“I am sorry, Margaret,” Leo said gently, taking my hands in his. “I truly am.”

“You’re always sorry for something, aren’t you?” I muttered begrudgingly as he pulled me close and kissed me gently on the lips.

“I will make it up to you- as I always do, yes?”

I sighed again and took his hand, leading him towards the dining room. “Come. Lunch should be done at any moment.

  
  


“You  _ just _ returned yesterday, Leonardo,” I pleaded, feeling fretful and whiny and desperate. I fell into the armchair behind me in a very theatrical way.

“I know, Margaret,” he said as he continued to unload his dirty laundry from his suitcase into the hamper. “But these opportunities with the Sect aren’t generally offered to people like me.”

“People with-  _ baggage _ ,” I said, instantly reigniting a feud that never seemed to end. Predictably, Leo deflated, scowling momentarily at the wall before turning to me.

“You are not baggage, Margaret-”

“But I’m the reason they don’t invite you most things, the reasons you have to scramble towards any ‘ _ opportunity’ _ they dangle in front of your nose.”

He looked at me, his eyes not angry, per se, but fiery. “I would not trade you for the world, nor the Sect.”

“But you want the world. You want the Sect.”

He returned to his suitcase. “I want you more.”

“I’m not going to let you turn me,” I said softly, and he froze. “Not for a very long time, at least. Not ever, possibly. And I’ll never be what you want me to be.”

There was sorrow in his eyes, as always. “So be it. But you are not leaving me- not now, not ever.” With an angered flourish, he tossed his now empty suitcase into the closet; it landed with a thump so loud I jumped. He stalked off without a word offered in explanation as to where he was going.

“So be it,” I whispered. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t what he wanted. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t what I wanted. It only mattered, apparently, that he had me, and would have me, and would make us both suffer just to know and say that he had me. “So be it.”

  
  


It was less than a week since he had arrived, and the morning before he would leave again. He lay down in bed next to me, his hand laying itself on my belly.

“Twelve years,” he said softly. I looked over at him. “Twelve years we’ve been together- truly together. And you’ve not fallen pregnant once.”

I blinked, looking over at him. “Halflings can get pregnant?”

“Yes,” he said. “Vampires can get pregnant.”

“Strange,” I said, looking up at the ruched veil above us.

“Maybe a baby would help you,” he said. “I know it would make me very happy.”

I didn’t want children. I loved them, of course, but the thought of myself as a mother… I suppressed a shudder.

Not to mention that I was yet to menstruate; just another cursed side effect of being so young,  _ always _ .

“Perhaps you’re right,” I said softly. He beamed at me, a smile so bright it almost didn’t hurt to see it. He stroked my hair out of my face, gazing upon me as if I was perfect. It ached.

“That’s my girl,” he said softly, leaning forward to kiss me.

And he took me again, just like he so often did. I looked like an apparition in the mirror, as thin as the veil above our heads.

When the deed was done, and Leonardo had lain in his casket, and the sun had risen, I slipped out of bed and packed several of my outfits, changing into another. I would not take most of my things. But as I scurried around our room, packing up what I needed and wanted, I caught sight of the beautiful jewelry box on my vanity. I walked over to it and stroked it gently. “Certainly, I cannot take you,” I whispered, careful not to disturb the delicate paint. With an almost reluctant sigh, I set about packing it carefully to ensure it was not disturbed.

Once I had finished, I turned to face the closed casket on the floor, and before I could stop myself, I began to weep. So hard and for so long, in fact, that I sank onto the ground and leaned against the bed, feeling the terror and heartbreak that I ought to have been feeling the entire time I had been planning on leaving.

Fifty years I had been here at Durante Manor, and not once had I left. Fifty years I had lived here under Leo’s care. Fifty years had I known nothing but the safety and stillness and beauty and purgatory of this place. Life with Mama was a distant and faded memory, one I could hardly remember with any clarity at all. I knew nothing of the world, nor of vampirism, nor where to get blood or money to find shelter or friends.

Twelve years since Leo had taken me, had changed me, changed us both. And yet I was so removed from that, removed from him, removed from myself and my sexuality and-  _ everything _ . Every time he touched me, it was an assault I couldn’t even bring myself to react to. Every time he kissed me, it was just further corruption.

I knew he loved me. I knew what I meant to him. But I also knew the pain he put me through, the consequences of his actions. As hard as they were to reconcile with one another, it was a disservice to myself to ignore either. I could not stay here. I did not know where I would go, but I would not stay here.

Still crying, I stood and grabbed my suitcase, walking away. He would join the Sect, likely ever more sorrowful, but he would find his purpose and live anew. He would be fine, I told myself as my throat ached. He would go on to thrive.

I stopped between the two grand staircases overlooking the entryway. Alice was below, finally removing the Christmas decorations that I always insisted stay up perhaps far too long after Christmas. She was well into womanhood by now- thirty three. She was as beautiful as ever, as sweet as ever, and we were as close as ever. I picked up my suitcase once again and hurried down the stairs.

“Margaret- are you alright? What are you doing?”

I looked at her, her familiar, kind face. “I’m leaving. I’ve left Leo a note. I-”

“And going where?” Alice insisted.

I looked at the large, intricate double doors leading to the outside world. “I… Don’t know yet.”

“Margaret… You’re a fool,” Her voice was kind, her laugh gentle.

Alice and I left together.

February 1914

A Letter Left Upon The Bed

**‘My Dearest Leonardo’**

  
  


My dearest Leonardo,

It is with a heavy heart and an assured mind that I leave you with this letter. You know as well as I do the reasons I am leaving, but I fear acknowledging them outright, putting words to them, will only wound the both of us all the more. Do not come to find me, for I will not return to you. Our time together is over.

Instead, find your place in the Sect. Flourish, and conquer, and do all that your heart desires- for you have many desires other than me, and even if I were more important than every single one of them, I am not more important than all of them.

You are a beautiful, strong, capable man, and you deserve to capture your ambitions.

Do not worry about me, for I will be fine. I am always fine, even when I intend very much to not be. I am a beautiful, strong, capable girl. You have taught me at least to be this.

I will think of you forever. Our love will never die. But it is long past time for us to part ways, for both of us deserve much more than we will find together.

I thank you for all the good you have given me- and that encompasses much.

Sincerely, and with love,

Margaret Jane Fisher


	3. Sweet Little Pet

May 1919

Austria, Probably. We Were In Vienna Yesterday… I Think…

**‘Do It To Me’**

  
  


As it were, vampire blood was a little bit tricky to obtain, especially while trying to conceal my search from my companion.

I gazed into my reflection, still so young and youthful, but certainly older than it was. If I were to guess, I would say seventeen. Still too young for much convenience in everyday life, but I didn’t cringe when I caught sight of my faded form in the mirror- a form much less faded than it had been when last I’d seen Leo.

It was like I’d pulled the stopper out of the bottle and let the water of life trickle out once more… If I didn’t get such screaming headaches without it, I might have thought to sink quietly back into human life, maybe settle down with Alice.

However, as I was growing ever happier with my face, my body, Alice was growing ever dissatisfied with her own. She stood beside me, her brow furrowed with worry and almost fear as she looked at herself. She was nearing forty, and though she couldn’t easily pass off as a young woman anymore, she certainly didn’t quite look her age- and besides. Her face was perhaps the prettiest I’d ever seen, a timeless beauty that surpassed periodic preferences. She was universally gorgeous. Her hair, once a dirty blonde, was now a shimmering red, and her porcelain skin showed few signs of aging. Her eyes were a glimmering baby blue, her pert lips a gentle pink. She looked like a model.

“You look as beautiful as ever, doll,” I insisted, leaning into her and running a hand over the stunning dress she wore, a deep burgundy, something I’d just finished making her not a week earlier. She eyed herself.

“You look grand, as well, pet,” she said softly, finally turning her eyes to me. I wore a similar dress made of the same fabric, just different enough so as to not be strange, but similar enough that we looked like a pair. “The boys are going to go mad over you,”

“Oh, please,” I said, frowning at my reflection. “I may look older, but not old enough for that. Besides, they’ll be drooling after you.”

Alice made a face as she studied herself once again, less frightened and more critical. “Well. Your condition seems to be lessening; maybe you’ll get old and wrinkly, just like me.”

I laughed gently. “You are anything but that, doll.”

Shortly thereafter, we headed out for the night, slinking into a secret and possibly illegal establishment; we did not speak German to know for certain. All I knew was that vampires frequented the place; there were cards, booze, dancing, and enough alleyway excursions to safely find oneself a drink. I’d warned Alice not to slip out with anyone, but to take them home so I could get a read on them. Vampires were so easy to find now- they all had an air about them, a certain mysterious quality, one that I was inherently drawn to. I wondered if it was more to do with their vampirism, or the fact that I was a halfling.

There was low, sensual jazz played by a band in fancy blue suits, quiet enough so that it was not heard from the street outside. People peppered the place, enough that it felt alive but not so many that it was crowded. Alice and I slinked into a spot at the bar, ordering our drinks. We scanned the crowd; her for a suitable gentleman friend to usher back to the house we were,  _ ahem _ , borrowing, and myself for someone with a vampire’s aura.

My stomach was crawling. It had been entirely too long since I’d last fed.

“Hallo, die Damen,” said a husky voice. A man- to my wonderful luck, a vampire- had settled beside me, eyeing both myself and Alice. Perhaps vampires could sense me as easily as I could them.

“Es tut mir Leid, Herr.” I said. “Wir sprechen Englisch.”

“We’re in luck, then,” he said. “As do I.”

“A pleasure, sir,” Alice cooed in her sensual voice, one that brought a shiver to my spine.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, as flirtatiously as she. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

His eyes slid to me and he smirked. His eyes were a piercing emerald, his ruddy lashes thick and long. He looked surprisingly young, maybe twenty, no more than a few years older than that. “Whatever you’d like it to be,”

“Oh, we get to pick?” Alice all but giggled. She leaned forward, her hand wrapping around my waist, her temple finding mine. “What do you think, pet?”

I was entirely out of my element. I leaned into Alice, trying to look coquettish. “I like sir,” I said, and to my delight, my voice was pouty and soft. “Very…” I looked over the strange man, who felt very dangerous, very exciting. “Commanding.”

“Mmmm,” he said, looking very pleased. “You’ll find I can be very  _ commanding _ .” He took a long sip of his drink, then looked between the two of us. “What should I call you?”

“I’m doll, and she’s pet,” Alice said matter-of-factly. I tensed at the thought of him using our pet names, but I supposed it was only for one night- and we did both need something from him.

His smirk renewed. “A doll to play limp and a pet to obey- what more could a man want?” I shuddered at the implication, feeling strangely hot. Alice laughed, a rich and womanly laugh.

“You’ll find we act quite the opposite, I suspect.”

“Will I?” The man pounced on the invitation quickly.

“Perhaps,” Alice said nonchalantly, offering a noncommittal shrug.

“I want to dance,” I said suddenly, getting to my feet, holding Alice’s hand. We both gave him one meaningful glance before walking off together; he hung back, leaning onto a barstool, watching us intently. Alice took the lead, our bodies moving rhythmically, sensually, veering too close to one another, our hands roaming too freely. It was a rush, to see and feel her lynx-like body against mine, to feel the fluid motions of my instinctual dances, to feel sir’s hungry eyes devouring us. We danced for maybe twenty minutes, sipping our drinks, and I only felt less and less inhibited as time went by.

When the music stopped, much to my surprise, Alice pulled me in close and kissed my lips- not in the platonic, loving way she often did in the evenings, but in a much more fevered, frenzied, exhilarating way. I gasped into her lips before responding, feeling her studied body against mine. As scandalous as it was, she kept it brief, pulling me back towards the bar. I ended up between her and sir once more as she ordered us each another drink.

Sir placed a hand on the small of my back and, startled, I tensed, looking over at him. His eyes met mine curiously. “You’re new, little pet, aren’t you?”

“New to what?” I asked breathlessly. His warm hand felt good.

He smirked and leaned in towards me, his lips millimeters from my skin. I shuddered at the feeling of his breath. “Just about everything, I assume.”

“You’d be surprised, sir,” I said softly.

“Mmm,” I felt him gently bite the edge of my ear before pulling away, keeping his hand on my back. He downed the rest of his glass as Alice handed me mine, her eyes glimmering with intrigue. “You two put on quite a lovely show for me.”

Alice laughed heartily, mirthfully. “Do you think that was for  _ your _ benefit, sir?”

“I do, indeed. You won’t find many others here of my- disposition tonight.” he said meaningfully, and I caught on- there were not many vampires to be found tonight. I’d noticed that.

Alice laughed again. “I truly doubt that, sir.”

I turned my head to the side, my words barely audible; “She doesn’t know.”

His eyes did not reveal anything, nor his face, but I felt a subtle change in his stance, his breathing. He had heard me. “Perhaps you should look for one of them, then,” he said, seemingly unamused.

“No!” I said hurriedly, and they both looked at me- Alice with surprise, and the man with a challenging intensity. I swallowed, flushing, feeling flustered. “I-I-I-”

“It’s alright, Madge,” she whispered, and I looked at her and blinked. I nodded, then turned to the man.

“Please, sir. A word in private.”

Sir looked back at his drink, less playful than he had previously been, considering. He took a long, slow swallow, and another, and another. I was nearly dancing with anxiety when he set his empty glass down and straightened. “Alright, then.”

I turned to a somewhat concerned Alice and put a hand on her arm. “I’ll be right back.”

“Be safe,” she said softly, frowning at me.

“Always.”

The man led me to one of the alleyways, turning towards me and crossing his arms. He wasn’t glaring at me, per se, but his intense expression and domineering energy made me feel as if he were. I shivered into the air, looking down at the concrete. “What are you doing toting around a human like that, halfling?”

“I-I-I-”

“Slow down. Calm down.”

I furrowed my brow, hugging myself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“How often do you drag her into our business? Dangle the truth in front of her and keep her in the dark?”

I frowned at him. “What? No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, she’s- interested in you, or whatever, and I need blood. She doesn’t need to know anything.” I felt like a schoolgirl being talked down to by a headmaster, but the headmaster was sexy and angry and intimidating. I snuck a glance at him, seeing him staring at the wall behind me. “I just need blood. You can- you can have something from me, too, obviously, because vampires rarely give me blood for nothing. You can have me, if you want me. And Alice- um, doll- wants you, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I need blood.”

He looked at me again, finally, studying me. “Where’s your sire?”

“My what?”

Surprise passed over his handsome face. “The vampire who made you, pet.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my feet. “Um. Italy, probably. That’s where I left him.”

“Why’d you leave him?”

I was silent for a long time, then looked over at the street, so far away. “I was fourteen when he made me. I’d been fourteen for decades when he-  _ took _ me.”

Disgust passed over his face, followed by sympathy. He nodded slowly, looking down. “Good for you. For leaving.”

I cleared my throat and hugged myself tired. “Will you help me or not?”

“Yeah.”

When we returned to Alice, she had finished our drinks. She turned and looked at us.

He chatted us up some more, getting me to relax, reassuring Alice. Just as that itch began to grow- the thirst, the need for blood- he ran his hand up my back gently, making me shudder and gasp gently. He smirked at me.

“Someone’s… Hungry,” he said. “Perhaps we should find a more  _ comfortable _ place to be alone,”

“Mmm,” Alice said, running her demure finger along the rim of her glass. “Do you think he’s been sweet enough to us, pet?”

“I do,” I said, leaning into him.

And with that, we climbed into his car and let him drive us to ‘our’ house.

“What do you think, pet?” Alice asked as we all disposed of our coats and shoes by the door. “My bedroom or yours?”

“I’m surprised you don’t sleep together nightly,” Sir said. “You two seem…  _ Close _ .”

“We are… very…  _ close _ ,” Alice cooed.

“Your room,” I whispered, planning on scurrying to my own bed when the deed was done. I was strangely excited at the idea of- whatever was going to happen, but I also wanted the option to escape.

I wondered when and how we would sneak off to feed, though.

Alice led us both to her room, and sir stayed close to me, his hand warming my hip. Alice stopped in front of her bed, spinning to eye us both. I was certain she’d never done anything like this before, but her eyes were eager and confident.

How I envied her so.

“Pet,” said sir, his voice velvety and alluring. I turned sheepishly towards him. “Stand in front of doll, facing me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and I did as I was bade, feeling an odd rush.

“Doll,” he said, plopping down onto a settee against the wall, reclining and placing an ankle on his knee. “Undress her. Slowly.”

“Yes, sir,” Alice cooed, her hands finding my body. I shuddered and leaned against her as she removed every single item of clothing from my body, her experienced hands teasing my skin as she went. Eventually, I stood bare before them both, entirely on display, my naked body pressed into Alice.

“Such pretty breasts,” he said softly, his eyes piercing my skin. “Play with them.”

“Yes, sir.” Tentatively, I raised my hands to my breasts, each an easy handful, and began to knead them.

“Doll,” he said. “Play with her cunt.”

I gasped, shuddering, leaning further against Alice. I felt her lips against my ear. “Is that alright?”

“Yes,” I whispered. With that, one of her hands lifted one of my legs as the other brushed past the bushel of hair at the core of me. I gasped again, my head falling back, as her fingers found my most sensitive flesh. “Oh, God,”

“You should be thanking me, pet,” Sir insisted. “I’m the one controlling your pleasure, aren’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” I gasped. “Thank you, sir.”

“Good girl,” he said. We remained there for several long moments as the pressure in my stomach grew and grew, as my arousal overflowed onto Alice’s expert fingers.

“Please,” I whimpered to no one in particular, my brain having melted. “More, more, more.”

“Stop. Both of you.”

Alice removed her hand and dropped my leg; I let out a long and desperate whimper, setting my own arms down. “Please-” I began.

“Quiet, pet. Come here.”

Meekly, I inched forward, hugging myself as the cold found my back. “Yes, sir.” The man turned me around, running his hand over my rear for a moment before urging me onto my knees. One hand buried itself in my hair as the other stroked my lips tenderly, parting them, pressing his fingers into my mouth. Unsurely, I suckled on them. They were thick and manly and calloused.

“Strip for me, doll,”

I watched coyly as Alice slowly undressed herself, all but dancing as she did, looking entirely enchanting with her glorious movements. Once she was bare, he beckoned her over as well and pulled my head back until I was looking up at the ceiling. He pulled my tongue back and moved it with his fingers.

“Remember that,” he said gently. “As you kiss her.”

“Yeth, thir,” I struggled to say. He pulled Alice forward by the hips, until the core of her had found my face, her little rosebud on my tongue. I kissed her, tasted her, drank from her, listening to the sounds of her and the man kissing passionately, her sweet moans and whimpers. She twitched and danced atop of my face, leaning onto me. Eventually, she had melted just as much as I had, and seemed as close to the edge as I had been.

Sir pushed her away then and pulled me up into his lap, holding me and gazing down at my slick, hazy face. I felt drunk- as drunk as I’d ever been- my eyes half lidded. His warm hands found my fold and he let out a pleased hiss. “You liked that, didn’t you, pet? Liked having her cunt in your mouth?”

“Yes, sir,” I all but whimpered.

“Doll, clean your mess off of her face.”

“Yes, sir,” Alice cooed, kissing my face sloppily. Eventually, her mouth found mine and we kissed desperately, hungrily, until I was shuddering and moaning beneath her, squirming in sir’s lap.

“Fuck,” the man hissed. “You two are beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alice muttered into my mouth.

“Lay down on the bed, on your back, doll.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Alice did as she was bade, sir urged me to my feet and stood beside me. He put my hands on his chest. “Undress me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said softly, coyly, and I tried to be coquettish as I did as I was told. I admired his broad chest and strong shoulders as they were revealing, his thick arms, his hard thighs. I nearly gawked at his manhood, feeling that new and strange hunger that had only truly been awakened in me tonight.

Fifty nine years I had been alive, and never before had I ever felt so alive.

“Please,” I gasped. “I need you inside of me,”

He picked me up as if I were nothing and all but threw me onto the bed beside Alice. “Impatient little whore, aren’t you?”

I gasped aloud at his vile words, shuddering. “ _ Yes _ ,” I ground out, my voice husky. My next words were strained as I burned crimson with embarrassment, which only seemed to make me feel even hotter. “I’m a filthy, hungry whore.”

Alice was watching us with exhilaration as the man dragged me to the edge of the bed, splaying my legs and gazing down at the core of me. “Good bitch,” he snarled. He looked and sounded angry, the intensity of his eyes making my skin crawl. “Such a good fucking bitch.”

He plunged into me and I cried out into the air. His hands found my breasts and he toyed with them almost violently, squeezing them and rolling my nipples with wild, careless abandon. “Yes, yes, yes- thank you, sir, yes.”

“Sit on her face,” Sir demanded, and Alice obliged. I heard them kiss as I pressed my tongue against her rosebud once more, rolling it like the man had done to my nipple. He rocked into me fiercely with his inhuman strength, his hands moving Alice’s hips above me, all but smothering me in her slick folds.

Not an unpleasant way to go, one would assume.

It was a long time we stayed like that, until finally I felt him explode within me. I whimpered against her flesh as he did, entirely enthralled with the sensation of being filled, the sound of him snarling above me like an angry wolf.

He moved us around, breathlessly instructing us with renewed vigor; soon, Alice was using her tongue to gently pull his seed into her mouth, toying with my clit with her fingers, as he took her from behind. I moaned and shuddered from her ministrations, delighted to watch the two of them making love.

I felt my body explode at the same time he let loose within her; she coaxed our climaxes to their completion expertly. Afterwards, we all seemed relatively spent. I scooted further onto the bed, crossing my legs and hugging myself, as the man sat once more on the settee, and Alice lay perfectly still and content, her eyes already drifting closed.

After I was confident that she was asleep, I almost fearfully scurried to my feet and inched closer to the man. He eyed me as I moved.

“That was- good,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

He smirked at me, amused. “It was very good,” he chuckled out softly. Sheepishly, I straddled his lap. His hands found my hips and I studied his handsome face. It was a strangely intimate moment, and my heart was content. “You’re a sweet thing,  _ Madge _ .”

“It’s not fair,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “You know both of our names, but we don’t know yours.”

His smirk renewed. “Dominic,” he said. “Dominic Klossner.”

“Dominic,” I whispered, my forehead finding his. My eyes drifted shut as I kissed his hard mouth for the very first time, feeling a stubble I had not seen scratch me as we kissed. It was a sensation so dissimilar from kissing Alice, who had been soft and sweet and sultry. He was hard and controlled.

After my mouth had gone raw, I pulled away and lay my head on the settee behind him, our cheeks touching. I felt so much closer to him than I had ever felt to Leo.

I scowled at the thought, pushing him from my mind.

“I’m thirsty,” I whispered.

“Mmm,” he said. “Take a drink.”

I leaned back, looking at his face. “I can’t very well bite through you, now, can I?”

He chuckled, eyeing me. “Yes, you can.”

I blinked, then looked at the crook of his shoulder. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“So would a knife, or whatever else you’d use.” He seemed to see the doubt on my face, as he continued. “Your teeth are different from a human’s, halfling. It’ll be fine.” I leaned forward and pressed my tongue against his skin almost experimentally, and he laughed. “Not there,” he said.

Pouting, I pulled back, and he laughed again before turning me in his lap, providing me with his wrist. “Here, pet. You can see my veins here.”

I bit into his wrist, feeling him tense and shudder behind me, hearing him groan in pain. I suckled desperately as the metallic sensation overwhelmed my senses, feeling my eyes roll back as that familiar, animalistic urge overcame me, kept my clinging to his wrist as I greedily drank from him. I could hear him groan and grunt behind me, until-

“Madge? What are you- Jesus Christ,”

I knew Alice was speaking to me, but I just couldn’t seem to care. I drank on.

“Goddamnit- it’s fine, doll. She’ll be done in a moment.” He sounded stressed.

It was a few minutes before I was done, before I let Dominic pull his arm away. I gasped in air, shuddering, feeling a few rivulets of blood and saliva mixed together trail down from the corners of my mouth. I shivered, leaning into Dominic as that animalistic disposition slowly retreated within me.

“What the fuck is wrong with her teeth?” Alice demanded. I’d never heard her speak like that.

“Nothing,” Dominic said.

“She- she  _ bit _ you. Madge? What’s going on?”

I looked at her face, the familiarity somewhat bringing me back down. I blinked hard several times, focusing on her. “I…”

“Madge,” Alice came closer and I shuddered, shaking off the last of it.

“I’m fine, Alice. I’m fine.” I sat up and looked sheepishly at Dominic, who was staring impassively at me.

“What’s going on? Why did you do that?”

Dominic looked at me, then meaningfully at Alice, then demandingly at me once more, and I sighed, understanding his meaning. “He’s a vampire,” I said. “And I am a half-vampire. A halfling.”

“You-  _ what _ ?”

“That’s why I barely age, Alice,” I looked back at her tiredly. “That’s my  _ condition _ .”

Alice, shocked, looked at Dominic for confirmation and he nodded slowly. “You can stop aging?”

Dominic’s eyes met hers. “Yes.”

Her mouth opened as hope lit up her pretty eyes, and I knew what she would say next. “Can you do it to me?”

Dominic looked at the floor, jaw working as he thought. After a moment, he nodded. “I could make you a halfling like Madge, slow down your aging. Or… I could make you a vampire, like, me, and stop it. If you wanted. It’d be safer than a human knowing, anyway.”

“Yes, please,” Alice said, flying forward. “Stop it. Make me- a vampire.”

Dominic looked up at her from beneath his thick lashes. “You’d have to stay here with me for a while, to learn. A year at least.”

“I’ll do it,” Alice said.

“You couldn’t go out in the sun, or pray. You’d have to sleep in a coffin. You’d have to drink human blood at least a few times a week- or, I suppose, you and Madge could just feed off of each other.”

“Anything,” she insisted. “Anything at all.”

Dominic looked down again, then slowly nodded. “Alright. Tomorrow night, then.”

“Okay,” Alice said, her voice shaky. “Thank you.”

August 1921

The Atlantic

**‘To New Beginnings’**

  
  


Alice had just finished covering the small windows in our suite when Dominic returned, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and three glasses in the other. “Hello, my loves,” he said as he set them down. “How are we?”

“We’re wonderful, of course,” Alice said cheerily. “Save for the idea of living in a sober country.”

Dominic chuckled as he poured the wine slowly into each glass. “Don’t worry, doll. Ways around that, of course.” He handed me a glass, then Alice, and lifted his own. “A toast,” he said. “To new beginnings.”

“A toast,” we echoed, downing our drinks.

“Speaking of new beginnings,” I said, gathering my legs beneath me. “We really ought to sort out those names.”

“I’m not changing my name,” Dominic said fiercely.

“I want to,” Alice cooed. “I’m so bored of mine. I’ve had it for far too long.”

“I second that notion,” I said. “More wine, please, Dom. Thank you.” He poured us all a refill. “I was born Margaret. Madge is just a nickname for that. I’m- I’m bored.”

“You’re both inane,” Dominic said, reclining on the large bed.

“You’re cruel,” I said, laying back with him, curling against him. Alice had never been as touchy as I was; it was so nice to have Dominic around to curl into, to stroke my hair or my back or my arm.

“Maybe we should have plays on pet and doll,” Alice said with a playful grin.

“That would sound dreadful,” I giggled out. “Call me Alice,” I said. “It’s a pretty name, if you’re not going to use it.”

“Ugh, God, no,” Alice giggled. “Pick something else.”

“No!” I said. “I’ve decided. I get to be Alice.”

Alice rolled her eyes before outstretching an arm, her womanly curved accentuated as she stretched across the bed, laying her head on her own shoulder. “Callie,” she said aloud after a few long moments. “What do we think of Callie?”

“It’s pretty,” I said. “I like it. Callie and Alice, Alice and Callie.”

“Alice and Callie Klossner,” Dominic spoke up. Alice’s- I mean, Callie’s- eyes lit up.

“Oooh,” she cooed. “How  _ romantic _ .”

“Callie and Alice Klossner,” I echoed, smiling sheepishly. “I like that. I like that a lot.”

“So, it’s settled, then?” Callie asked.

“It’s settled, then.”


End file.
